Between these dim corners
in the confines of a forgotten room
two dancers in the waltz of time
the ticking clock and the hourglass,
a duet of motion and stillness
of sound and silence.

A cherry blossom petal, its beauty ethereal
Fragile—a breath could make it shatter
searching for her reflections
in their glass surfaces, on hold
desperate to save her from the fall,
frozen in time, helpless and small

Would the sand and gears lift her up, from where the branches have let her down?

Between the fingers of the hourglass
each grain screamed in a silent plea.
Beneath the glass exterior,
their sounds were the excessive blasts
yearning to break free,
trying to save the petal’s fate.

Just like a shattered heart desperate to turn back time,
to give the petal a chance,
a chance to dance one more in the breeze
There is still an intact heart
in measured beats and rhythms,
the arms swing with grace
of the clock in the corner,
but oh, these arms try to reach the far,
they extend, only to save the blur.

Even if the heart stays,
it couldn’t save what was left from the hourglass
nor from the petal’s fading grasp
to their fate.

Their efforts,
as a bird yearning for spring,
trapped behind the bars of its cage.
The petal reached the ground
but alas, the clock's beating heart
and the hourglass's shattered remains
both stopped in motion, powerless
and no longer heard.

Their battle ended without a word
the waltz of time came to a halt
and all that remained
was a petal on the ground.


© Razane

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